


A moment in time

by the_grammar_nazi



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 17:41:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19430908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_grammar_nazi/pseuds/the_grammar_nazi
Summary: Inspired by the scene where Crowley pins Aziraphale against the wall in episode 2, what would have happened if the ex-nun hadn't come and interrupted their little "intimate moment"?!





	A moment in time

Aziraphale felt like he was teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown. It wasn’t even that the world was about to end, or that the Antichrist was missing. 

Crowley was back. 

Worse than that, he kept insisting that they were in cahoots. 

Worse than that, even, he seemed to think they were friends. 

Sure, they’d been through quite a bit together over the years … ahem, decades. Err… centuries. But did that qualify them as friends? An angel and a demon?! It was preposterous. They were polar opposites. Quite literally. And if the archangel Gabriel found out about this unlikely alliance, or whatever it was, with the opposition, he would be most displeased.  
No, it was definitely NOT a friendship.  
It was a partnership. A business deal, pure and simple. They’d help each other find the Antichrist before either side knew he had been misplaced, and all would be right in the world again – for the next six days, anyway. Aziraphale didn’t want to think about what came after that.  
And then Crowley had to go and be all nice and miracle away the paint stain on Aziraphale’s jacket.  
He didn’t know what he’d said to ignite the demon’s anger, but all of a sudden, he was being pinned against the wall in the hallway, Crowley’s snarling face mere millimeters away. 

‘Nice?! I’m not nice!’ 

Oh dear, did I say that aloud? the angel wondered.

Aziraphale supposed he should be afraid, because Crowley had shown in the past that he had a fearsome temper when riled; but the truth was, he really wasn’t. Afraid, that is. As a matter of fact, another feeling – not entirely new where Crowley was concerned – had reared its ugly head.  
Literally.  
Aziraphale gulped. Think, he urged himself. Think of something dull. Something that will reverse your current …. Situation. Quickly! 

Oh … Bugger. Too late. 

His human manifestation and all its inherent urges had taken over. Before he knew what was what, Aziraphale was kissing Crowley, and what was even more surprising was that Crowley was kissing him back! 

Footsteps and a female voice threatened to destroy their moment, but Crowley held an arm up and she – whoever she was - fell silent, in a forced state of catatonia. Of this Aziraphale was only dimly aware. All he could think about was how much he’d missed out on, surrounding himself in musty old books and doing the occasional miracle for the powers-that-be upstairs instead of really immersing himself in the human experience. He could have been doing this … this kissing thing a whole lot more, at the very least! 

He wondered if he was good at it. You don’t get a whole lot of opportunity to practice this kind of thing. But then he supposed that he must be, because Crowley hadn’t thrown him across the hallway in disgust. 

Yet. 

Feverish in their discovery of each other, the angel and the demon lost all thought of time and place. Crowley pushed Aziraphale back up against the wall, his serpentine tongue flickering against Aziraphale’s earlobe. 

‘That tickles,’ the angel giggled. ‘Don’t!’ He raised his shoulder reflexively. ‘Stop.’

‘Don’t stop? Okay.’

‘I meant … That’s not what I meant …’

Crowley glanced at him and smiled. ‘I know what you meant. I was teasing.’

Aziraphale became aware that his legs were made of rubber and could barely hold him up. He wished Crowley would take off those infernal dark glasses. He didn’t like not being able to see someone’s eyes. The eyes were the windows to the soul after all – not that Crowley had one, but that was beside the point. He wanted, no – he needed to know that the demon was as nervous and excited as he was about this sudden turn of events. He needed to know that he was not going to be the butt of demon locker-room jokes, owing to his miserable lack of experience with all things sex-related. 

Crowley caressed Aziraphale’s cheek and ran his thumb across the angel’s bottom lip. ‘You’re drooling,’ he informed him. ‘It’s cute, but … please, we’re in public. Well, as public as an abandoned convent’s likely to get, anyway.’  
The reminder snapped the angel back to the here-and-now. ‘The r-records,’ he stammered. ‘We need to find them.’

‘I suspect they’ll be under lock and key, in a small, out-of-the-way room where no one can disturb us.’ Crowley’s grin was shark-like. He waved a hand in the direction of the doors at the end of the hall. ‘Shall we?’

‘Um … Crowley? What about her?’ Aziraphale nodded in the direction of the lone female, a woman in her late thirties, who seemed to be the very same woman he’d spotted in a picture in the main foyer, in a nun’s habit. ‘You can’t leave her like that.’ The poor woman was in mid-stride, her mouth open, as if she’d been scolding them for trespassing. 

Crowley frowned. ‘Why on earth not?’ 

Aziraphale gave him a reproachful look. ‘Why do you think?’ 

Crowley gave an exaggerated sigh of resignation and unfroze the woman. 

‘Sorry for intruding on an intimate moment …’ 

Crowley and Aziraphale glanced at each other, each thinking roughly the same thing. 

Lady, you have no idea. 

**** 

‘Well, that was a bust,’ Crowley grizzled, sinking into Aziraphale’s comfy armchair in the back room of the bookstore. 

‘It wasn’t entirely a waste of time, though, was it?’ The angel asked. ‘I mean … We did find out some information, at least.’

Crowley’s lips turned up in a sexy smirk. ‘Among other things.’

Aziraphale felt his face grow hot. ‘Yes … well … it was a very … successful fact-finding mission.’

‘It’s called reconnaissance, angel. And yes, it was … illuminating.’ Crowley flung his long legs over the arm of Aziraphale’s chair. ‘Do you have any single malt Scotch?’ 

‘No but I have some very nice Bordeaux …’

‘That’ll do.’

‘Really, Crowley, do you think now’s a good time to get drunk? With the apocalypse so close, and we still have very little idea where to find the Antichrist?’

‘Oh, the contrary, I think it’s a great idea. Besides, you’re hilarious when you’re in your cups.’

‘Oh … oh well, far be it for me to deny you of entertainment.’

‘Angel; don’t get all huffy. I meant it in a good way.’ 

‘I’m sure.’ Aziraphale turned toward his drinks cabinet and scanned its shelves for a suitable vintage. Suddenly two warm hands were snaking around his waist, and Crowley’s lips were pressing against the skin below Aziraphale’s right ear. 

‘Don’t be mad at me,’ he whispered. ‘It’s been a great day. Don’t spoil it now.’ 

Aziraphale closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing as the demon unfastened his trousers and slid a hand inside. He grasped the edge of the wine cabinet’s shelf, attempting to steady himself but almost knocking over a Grange Hermitage from 1980. Crowley’s fingers curled around his shaft and squeezed gently, and then a bit firmer. The angel bit his lower lip and buried his face against his upper arm. Was this really happening? Or was he going to be woken by his alarm at any moment? It certainly felt far more vivid than any of his other dreams. Smelled more vivid, too, with hints of citrus and woody tones. When did Crowley start wearing cologne? Seems he should have noticed this. It would have been a handy clue as to the demon’s feelings at the very least. He’d never bothered before. That was Azirophale’s thing, the whole metrosexual, grooming business. Crowley tended to throw on whatever didn’t crawl out of his laundry basket by itself.  
He grew hard quickly in Crowley’s capable hand. Almost painfully hard. But then, men knew best how to touch other men, didn’t they? 

‘Turn around,’ the demon whispered, and Azirophale, ever the obedient angel, did as he was told. Crowley had removed his glasses and in the dim light of the back room, his eyes glowed radiantly yellow, like a cat’s – or more accurately, like a snake’s. He took a step forward and pressed himself against Aziraphale, kissing him hard on the mouth, flickering his serpentine tongue against the angel’s more human one. The wine bottles behind them clinked and threatened to fall over, but Crowley threw a hand up and steadied them just in time. The other hand caressed the angel’s jawline and neck. Aziraphale’s own hands were frozen in fear and indecision and remained motionless on Crowley’s thin shoulders. He knew he was floundering, letting the demon take the lead, and it probably showed just how inexperienced he was, but he no longer cared. Crowley bit Aziraphale’s lower lip gently and ground his hips against the angel’s’, making Aziraphale weak with lust. Crowley’s fingers curled around his cock again … and then the demon dropped to his knees. 

Oh, YES! thought Aziraphale, as Crowley’s lips and tongue proceeded to turn him inside out. This is the only way to spend the last days on Earth! Bring on the Apocalypse!


End file.
